The Masked Merchant
by hannibalthecannibal17
Summary: After Lord Voldemorts resurrection at the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament he begins to secretly gather power. He sends his loyal Death Eaters across the world to recruit notable dark figures to his cause. One of those is a man who has a great deal of knowledge of powerful artifacts, and is exceptionally talented at aquiring them.
1. Chapter 1

A man in a black robe stood in a tunnel. The walls were lined with skulls. The walls were made of bones, some of them hundreds of years old. This did not deter the man in a black robe. Indeed, he almost seemed at home among the dead. In his right hand he clenched an old oil lantern; from the lantern, an eerie blue light spilled out. If someone listened closely, they would hear faint whispers echoing from inside the lantern. The only visible part of the man was his right arm; it was thin, not wiry and strong, just thin. The rest of him was covered by the black robe, itself covered in dust. He walked quickly, but eerily silent, the only sound in the catacombs the whispering of the lantern. He eventually came upon a door, a large wooden door, covered in sigils and runes. With an almost reverent air about him, he set down his lantern and with both hands; his left as thin as the right, he traced the sigils. Eventually he stepped back from the door and breathed in, long and deep. What emerged from his mouth was not just an exhaling breath; it was a chant, a litany spoken in a long-forgotten tongue. Then he tapped four of the sigils: a lightning bolt surrounded by a ring of fire, a pentagram, a bull, and a long snake biting its tail. The four signs glowed green, and turned one hundred and eighty degrees. With one more word from the robed man, and the door slammed itself open. The room the door had been sealing was small. Like the rest of the catacombs the walls were made of bones, and the floor was made of dirt. In the very center of the room a waist-high alter rose from the floor. On the altar lay a sword, it had clearly been there for a while as it was covered in cobwebs and dust. The man quickly strode to the altar and gazed upon the blade. With a few, experienced sweeps of his hand he removed all of the cobwebs and removed the sword from its sheath.

It was a Roman Gladius, and it shone like the sun itself. With a shaky hand the stabbed the sword into his hood, right where his face was; a loud clang echoed throughout the room. After a second the man re-sheathed the sword, and walked out of the room with his head held low. With an angry gesture the man seized his lantern and stormed out of the catacombs. When he reached the exit he stared at the sword, and sighed, "It wasn't strong enough either." The only thing he said, in English, throughout all of his time in the catacombs. Then he left, never to return.

Why oh why did his father have to bring him here, was the average thought running through Draco Malfoy's head at the moment. The sixth year had been thrilled to here that he would be relieved from his summer break boredom in order to go on a mission for the Dark Lord. That excitement vanished faster than Peter Pettigrew when he saw a cat; when Draco was told they would have to slog through a dark, Russian forest filled with insects.

"Draco, pay attention! We will be arriving soon, and you could learn something if you would only _pay attention!_"

"Father, what could I possibly learn in a magic-forsaken place like this? A pureblood should not have to go into places like this; it's a job for mud bloods and squibs." Draco whined.

"You ignorant little brat! Our Lord ordered us to do this. It doesn't matter if he tells you to shovel dragon droppings you do it! In addition this is a mission of utmost importance and I thought you could actually learn something."

Draco shrunk backwards from his father's anger. The two Death Eaters walked in silence for a while. Draco eventually summoned up some small before-unseen well of courage and asked his father; "What are we doing here, Father?"

"There is a man who has a great deal of fame in Europe, we have been sent to present our lord's offer to him."  
"Is he some great duelist, like Dolohov?"  
"No, as a matter of fact his raw magical power is nearly non-existent."

"What on Earth could someone like that, offer the Dark Lord?"

"He is not famous for what he is capable of, but what he possesses: knowledge, and magical artifacts to be specific."  
"What a few rusty swords and old cloaks?"

"I'm done explaining. Now Draco, keep your eyes open and your hands to yourself, we are here."  
Lucius stopped abruptly, nearly causing Draco to run in to him.

"Father, there's nothing here."  
Indeed the two of them were standing a clearing, the only one Draco had seen since entering the forest. This clearing, however, was filled with snow. It looked like a small patch of land was trapped in winter while the rest of Russia was in the grip of summer.

"So it seems, Draco, so it seems. However if one knows how to look, there is so much more here."

As Lucius was speaking he removed a small bag from one of his robe pockets. When he was finished he tossed it forward.

The air in front of them rippled like water, the stones hung at the epicenter of the ripple and then they exploded. The air in front of them crystalized into a large bubble, roughly fifty feet high. The bubble then disintegrated, revealing a small wooden cabin.

"Very well come along Draco." Lucius strode toward the cabin leaving Draco staring, his mouth open in surprise. He then shut it and raced after his father.

"Father, Father!"

What is it now?"

"What is it? How-How did, I thought he didn't have any magical power!"

"Who dares?" A deep, dark, cold voice filled the valley; freezing Draco in his tracks, "Who dares enter my valley? My Domain?" To Draco the voice wasn't human; it was something far older, and far more powerful. He was cold, so very cold, and tired; and that snow looked so welcoming now, when before it was cold.

"Yes, sleep now little intruder, become a part of the valley."

Yes, yes being a part of something as beautiful as this valley would be wonderful. He knelt on the ground and began to dig into the snow.

The next thing he knew his father had dragged him up to his feet, slapped him, and pored a potion down his throat.

"You damn fool boy, I warned you to watch where you stepped!"  
"Father? Wh-What happened? "

"You were not careful, look."

Lucius drew his wand, and with a wave cleared the snow in a precise square where Draco was previously standing. In side of that square was a pentagram, made of some black liquid that had somehow not mixed with the snow.

"What is that Father?"

"The blood of a Wendigo, drawn with a silver sickle," a third rougher voice joined their conversation with the creak of rusty door hinges.

Lucius turned away from the pentagram, and Draco took two large steps from it, he looked at the pentagram twice to ensure it couldn't attack him, before he looked at the newcomer.

The newcomer was covered in a plain dark robe with the hood pulled over his head. His hands, the only part of him not covered by the robe, had silver gauntlets covering them. The fingers of the gauntlets were rectangular and the ends were flat. He leaned against the door frame, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably at it. A half-blind man could see that he was ready to bolt.

"Tell me, what business do two servants of Lord Voldemort have with a simple merchant?"

Lucius quickly pasted a charming grin on his face and bowed, "My dear sir, you are far more than a mere-"

Whatever Lucius had been about to say was cut off by his son marching up to the merchant and putting his wand in the man's face.

"What did you do to me? Tell me! What was that, that voice?" His arm was shaking like a leaf, a side effect of the cold. In a flash of silver the hooded man snatched Draco's wand from his hand and chucked it into the pentagram.

Without thinking Draco dashed after his wand, barely stopping himself from leaping into the pentagram. His head flashed from the merchant to his wand, disbelief clear on his face.

"The first rule of doing business with me is no wands in the cabin. You may either place your wand with your son's or give it to me, Lord Malfoy."

Smile still on his face, Lucius strolled up to the cabin, climbed the steps and handed the merchant his wand.

"So you know who I am?"

"Of course I do, the Malfoys are one of the most prestigious families in the world. I keep an eye on families like that."

"More correctly on their treasures, am I correct? It is an honor to know that my treasures are worthy of the Masked Winter's attention."

"Fair enough." The thief reached a gauntleted hand into one of the pockets of his robe, and removed a wand case that should not have fit. He quickly placed Lucius's wand in it and with a snap closed it and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Alright, come on in." With a wave of his hand he beckoned in Lucius and Draco, who had just given up on retrieving his wand. Lucius walked into the cabin without a trace of fear. As opposed to Draco, who was very clearly expecting to fall into another trap, and was glancing everywhere.

The small cabin was very cluttered. There were chests and display stands lining the walls. A tiny bed was at the very back of the cabin, and in front of that was a plain wooden table with four chairs around it.

"Come, sit." Lucius sat down gracefully but Draco just stared at his chair. He nearly jumped three feet in the air when the thief clasped a hand on his shoulder.

"Relax; it would be very bad for business if I booby-trapped the chairs my customers sat in."

Draco, very reluctantly, sat down flinching when the chair slid backwards under his weight. The merchant sat down and steepled his fingers.

"So what can I do for Lord Voldemort?"

Lucius smirked

"My Lord requires that y-"

"More importantly, why should I help him? I have no doubt that he knows who I am. How could he not?"

The merchant lifted his hands to his hood and pushed it back, revealing a metal mask. Its face was that of a man screaming in unbearable pain. The mask covered his entire head and the top half of his neck, stopping just before his adam's apple. There was no clear fastener responsible for the mask staying on; indeed, it looked like it could be removed easily.

"My master does indeed know who you are, Mr. Harry Potter."


	2. The Dibh Cathéide

Draco's mouth dropped open, his eyebrows arcing to form a look that was equal parts scorn and surprise.

"There's another Potter?"

"Not anymore," was the now-named Harry's response.

"I was disowned back when I was still a Hogwarts student." He said with old bitterness dripping from his voice.

"To be fair to your father, you were summoning the Lords of Frost in the basement. That's a bit more than a little average mischief-making." Lucius said with a smirk flitting across his face

"Who are the Lords of Frost?" Draco, who had finally recovered from shock, asked.

"The Lords of Frost," Lucius said with the air of a cat that had just gotten its cream. "Are an exceptionally old race; they were born millions of years ago. The very first time an innocent creature died on ice. That creature was the ancestor of the modern unicorns and that ice was covered in its blood. "

Lucius leaned forward staring right into the eyes of Harry's mask.

"The death of a creature like that is powerful, more powerful than you can even imagine, Draco. The sheer evil that occurs when one is murdered was enough to animate the very ice. That small inhuman creature was born from the death of one of the most innocent creatures in the history of the world; and it liked it. It gloried in the death of the weak, and it set out to continue its work. It created more of itself, and grew even more powerful until they ruled over this planet."  
"What happened to them then? I mean if they were so powerful, what on earth happened to get rid of them?"

"The earth began to warm up. Their power was tied to the frozen earth and when it began to melt; they died. So they tore a hole in the fabric of the universe and created their own domain of eternal winter. But those who have encountered them, and survived, say that they still stare at earth with a terrible hunger; just waiting to reclaim their home."

Lucius leaned back with a full-blown grin on his face. "So I think it's understandable that James Potter, head auror and single father, would react badly to his cursed son summoning them."

Harry's armored fist slammed into the table sending dust into the air.  
"That doesn't matter! Know tell me what does your master want you dog?"  
The smile vanished from Lucius's face; he reached into his pocket and removed a hexagonal locket, with a snake on it. He then placed it around his neck, causing Harry to lean forward to see it.  
"Is that, no it can't be, it is! That's Slytherin's Locket that was lost for ages! Where the hell did your fin-"

His exclamation, that promised to become a full on rant was cut short by Lucius fainting. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and all tension left his body.

"Father!" Draco had leaped out of his chair and was almost to Lucius before he was stopped by a metal gauntlet.

"Don't touch him! I've never seen this happen before so I have no idea what will happen next."

Harry leaned forward, and cautiously reached a hand towards the locket.

"If I can just get the locket then maybe I could erk-"Lucius's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Harry by the part of the neck that was not covered by his mask. The hand tightened, cutting off Harry's air.

Without releasing him, Lucius stood up easily, not burdened by harry at all. His eyes unrolled themselves, but now they were red, as opposed blue. Lucius's body was obscured by black smoke pouring out of the Locket. It spun around him like a tornado, for a few seconds, and then began to fade. Then when the smoke disappeared, Lucius was gone. In his place was none other than Lord Voldemort himself.

He tossed Harry causally to the side like a piece of trash.

"Ah Harry Potter, it has been a very, very long time. Tell me Harry, how are you?"  
With a groan of pain Harry pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

"How-"he coughed violently, "how are you here? You're possessing him, but, but that's impossible! The wards I have on this cabin could stop a demon prince in its tracks! What-What in the hell are you?"

A smile that would send entire armies running appeared, "I am Lord Voldemort. The man who force the entire world to bend its knee to him, and the one that will rule it for all of eternity! I am eternal and all powerful; did you really think your wards could keep me out? Did you think you were safe? Oh foolish, foolish, boy; there is no safe place from me on this earth."

"Wrong."

Harry thrust his arm forward, the flat ends of his gauntlets fingers vanished revealing black holes where his fingertips should be.

1"You're dead."

From those holes came a storm. It was not a simple bolt of light like most spells, no; this was all the fury of a storm unleashed. Icy death howling, rushed at Voldemort at a near break-neck speed.

Just as it was about to slam into him, Lord Voldemort reached out a hand, and slapped it. Instead of Voldemort's hand being utterly annihilated, the blast dwindled until it was a small ball the size of a snow globe dancing in the palm of Voldemort's hand.

"Is this all you are capable of Harry? All those years you spent desperately attempting to claw your way to power, and this is all you can do? I suppose this is all that can be expected after all, my mask drained you of your magical power years ago. It's a wonder that you're still standing."

"Impossible. No human being could survive that, let alone block it!"  
Voldemort sneered at him. "Poor little Harry Potter, hiding behind his little toys and 'impossibility'; desperately hoping, praying, begging, that reality won't seep in and destroy him! Well guess what Harry? It's time to wake up." A blast of dark fire burst from the palm of his hand incinerating the ice globe.

Harry pulled himself onto his feet and leaned against the wall.

"Alright, tell me one thing then. If I'm so pathetic, so weak, what do you even need me for?"

Voldemort snapped his fingers and a letter appeared in his hand, another snap and it flew to Harry who caught it. After a minute of fiddling, as it was hard to open envelopes with gauntlets on, he opened it.

"Your assignment, you have one year."

"The _dibh cathéide._ You want me to find the _dibh cathéide. _You honestly think that I can find it? It's been lost for a century and a half. It might have been destroyed, for all we know.'

"I have great faith in your abilities, and as for it being destroyed, I think your own lack of success with destroying your mask should tell you how hard it is to destroy something truly powerful."

"And if I refuse, just run away from it all? Maybe I'll go somewhere tropical next time, maybe the Bahamas."

Voldemort chuckled at that, "Harry, Harry you can't run away from me." His arm flashed out and with a murmured incantation, Harry's mask began to glow bright red.

A blood curling scream tore its way out of Harry's throat as he fell to the ground.

"Stop! Please I'll do what you want just please, just stop."

Voldemort grinned and with a wave of his hand the glow vanished.

"Harry, you of all people should know just what that mask of mine is capable of. It may have stolen all of your magical power years ago but it can still drain the very life out of you."

Voldemort then walked to the very threshold of the door and turned d back to Harry, who was still kneeling and panting.

"Once again Harry, one year or suffer the consequences. Oh and Draco?"

Draco started, eyeing his lord with wide, terrified eyes, "Yes, m-my master. You will be young Harry's assistant. That means you will follow his orders as if they came directly from me. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded his head so fast that Voldemort was struck by the amusing mental image of his head flying off, he resolved to attempt to create that effect with a spell later.

"I understand. I-I understand completely my Lord."

"Do you? Do you really understand?"

"Yes of course I d- urghk."

Lord Voldemort appeared in front of him, and grasped Draco's jaw in a vice-like grip.

"I don't think you do Draco, so I shall elaborate, slowly so that you can keep up. If I hear one word of your Malfoy pride slowing down this mission in any way, I will skin you alive."

Voldemort threw Draco the ground and dissolved into black mist. This filtered out of the cabin leaving to shocked young men behind it.

"He apparated."

"I somehow grasped that without your genius observation Potter."

"No you don't understand, I have anti-apparation wards, it should have been impossible for him to do that."

"I really have gotten sick of hearing you say that Potter."

"Shut up and help me up."

For the first time since Voldemort appeared in the room Draco looked at his host. He was still collapsed on the floor, shaking all over.

With a gulp he asked, "What's wrong with you?"

"I just had roughly three years' worth of life ripped from my body, and with the condition my body is in that is extremely dangerous. Now shut up and help me."

"Alright, alright keep your mask on." Draco limped over to the merchant and helped him up, noting how light he was.

"I couldn't remove it if I wanted to, and believe me I do. Alright now let's get over to the far wall."

They limped over to the one spot of the far wall that was not covered by shelves and boxes. Harry stroked the wall and it glowed with light. A door made out of some dark unforgiving metal appeared on the wall. It opened revealing another small room with a fireplace complete with a roaring fire and a rocking chair. The room was lightly furnished, with a rocking chair and a small stool as the only furniture. Draco guided the masked man to the chair before he claimed the stool for himself.

For a while they sat in silence, the both of them staring into the fire contemplating what had just happened. Eventually it was Harry who broke the silence.  
"Don't let me fall asleep."  
"What?"  
"Are you deaf? I said don't let me fall asleep."

"Why not? A little sleep would probably help you after a meeting like that. Besides why should I listen to you? You're the squib."

Harry looked at Draco, the black eyeholes of his mask boring into him.  
"Maybe for ordinary people, but I am in the service of the Lords of Frost, I don't want them trying to collect my soul early. As for why you should listen to me I think your master explained that rather well."

Draco scowled despite his bravado he was still terrified of his master and the threat, no _promise_, he had given Draco.

"Fine, how should I keep you awake then? Because I am not making tea like a dirty house-elf, I am a Malfoy, we have servants for that."

"I couldn't drink it anyway. Ask me questions."

"About what?"  
"Anything, our job, my mask, hell even the weather, just keep my mind occupied."

"That thing we have to get, what is it?"

"That thing, as you so eloquently put it, is called the _dibh cathéide_, and it is easily one of the most powerful artifacts ever made."

Harry sighed and looked back at the fire.

"The story goes that over 1,900 years ago a meteor fell to earth, in Ireland to be specific. It was found by a vicious clan of necromancers who discovered a strange metal ore at the center of it. Even the smallest child among them could feel the raw magical power it gave off and they knew they had found their key to ruling all of Ireland. They launched raiding parties on the nearby villages capturing thirty two people of both genders and all ages. Then on the night of the full moon, the necromancers slit all of their throats, catching the blood in bowls. They immersed the ore in it. They repeated that process for a full year, until the metal stank of death and fouled the very air. Then they travelled to Mount Vesuvius and forged one of the greatest magical items to ever be fashioned. The forging of it was so powerful, and the item so foul, that it caused the volcano to erupt, burying Pompeii under a sea of volcanic ash. The result was the _dibh cathéide_:a suit of magical armor that made its wearer nothing short of God like. The necromancers returned to Ireland confident that his was the dawn of a new era for them. It was not to be as the clan destroyed itself fighting over the armor. The armor remained untouched, until someone who had heard the legend of it came looking."

"Who?"

"Mordred, the bastard son of King Arthur and Morgan Le Fay, desperate for a weapon that would allow him to stand up to Excalibur came to Ireland. He found the armor and took it back to England. He used the power of the armor to corrupt his forces and his castle, creating the Dark Citadel. His troops empowered by darkness, became grotesque monsters. With those forces under his command he set out to lay waste to the kingdom of Camelot. Mordred's armies lay waste to Camelot, raping and killing as they went. It wasn't until King Arthur personally led an army against the attackers was any hope seen. Even then that wasn't enough, just when it seemed like Mordred's forces would be routed, he personally took the field. No one stood a chance against him, poisonous smog poured out of the joints of the armor, mere gestures sent men flying, and the red glare blazing out of his visor drove lesser men mad. Eventually King Arthur took the field and faced Mordred. The holiest of swords met the darkest of armor. Their duel lasted hours and devastated the countryside. Eventually Mordred smashed King Arthur to the ground; confident in his invincibility, he removed his helm to properly see Arthur. Arthur saw a chance and took it, one last swing of Excalibur removed Mordred's head from his body. Arthur succumbed to the injuries Mordred gave him, his knights then took the armor, divided it into pieces, and scattered it across the world. To prevent another Mordred rising."

Draco stared into the fire in shock for a minute, "it's that powerful?"

Harry chuckled, a bitter, mirthless sound, "That's the best part, Mordred had almost no magical power, he had just enough to use the armor. Imagine some like Voldemort wearing it."

Draco made no sound except a very audible gulp.

"If your master gets that armor Britain will fall, and the World will quickly fall. His dreams of world conquest fulfilled, and the world damned to an eternity of darkness."

Harry stood, energy returned to him, he looked at Draco, "and were going to get it for him."

With that Harry walked off leaving Draco to stare into the fire.

**Authors Note**

**First I would like to thank everyone who has read The Masked Merchant. Everyone who favorite, followed, and reviewed it was wonderful to see the e-mails informing me. Sorry it took so long to update, it's been a few busy weeks for me but now I'll have a lot more free time to work. Next chapter we will meet the Lords of Frost and find out how Harry got his mask**


	3. The Knife

In a poorly-lit but well decorated room, Lucius Malfoy was slumped unconscious in a luxurious armchair, before him stood the Dark Lord Voldemort. A shark-like grin on his face Voldemort waved his wand over Malfoy's hand and from underneath his fingernails came several small rusty-red clumps. A small glass vial appeared in Voldemort's hand without a word and the red clumps quickly settled into it. With a turn of a heel Voldemort vanished

He appeared in yet another poorly lit room but aside from the lack of lighting the two rooms were very different. Where the first room had contained an armchair with an unconscious evil aristocrat, this room was much larger and contained a large pit filled with what could only be described as liquid pink muscle. He poured the clumps into the pit and watched as the flesh turned blood red.

"Wake up. Come on, wake up."

"Snorfgh"

"Perfect, just perfect; Dark Lord in my house, being forced to work for him and to top it all off my so-called 'assistant' is sleeping. Wake up!"

On summer mornings Draco Malfoy, scion of the Malfoy family, was used to sleeping in and being gently roused from his slumber by a house-elf. Today he was jolted from sleep by being slapped over the head by an armored hand.

"What! Who! Where!"

"Take your time Malfoy, I'm sure that you will grace the very air with an oral masterpiece. One that will make grown men and women weep."

Draco stared at the unchanging iron mask for a second, confusion in his eyes, after roughly five seconds of staring recognition slowly crept into his eyes.

"Potter?"  
"Good, you can remember events that happened less than a day ago. Now that you've demonstrated the mental skills of a small child I am just filled with confidence."

"Shut up Potter, I just woke up."

"That might have been a valid excuse in the halls of Hogwarts, or in your family's mansion but not here, not now. Now shut up and help me."

Harry stormed off not even looking to see if Draco was following him.

Harry entered a small circular room, no more than three feet wide; Draco stumbled in after him panting.

"You said you needed help?"

"I need several things, but right now? Just don't scream."

"Wha-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah"

Draco's question was cut off by a scream of terror as the floor glowed, detached itself from the wall and fell.

Deeper and deeper, faster and faster it fell; all the while Draco's screams grew in pitch. The floor stopped abruptly but Draco's screams did not, earning him another slap from Harry. The floor had stopped in a dark cavern

"Shut up will you? I can barely here myself think."  
Draco drew himself up to his full height, a good few inches taller than Harry, and glared with enough acid to melt steel.

"A little warning next time, _Potter_, I was merely taken by surprise."

"Of course you were your lordship, but if I were you I would pay close attention. This is gonna make that little ride seem like a trip to Hogsmeade."

Harry slapped his hands together and the cavern was filled with light, blinding Draco momentarily. He stumbled around, blinking rapidly; head pointed at the ground before he straightened up and stared. The floor had stopped in a cavern that was bigger than the cabin above it. Draco rubbed his eyes, looked again and immediately reconsidered his thoughts. 'No' he thought 'it's much, _much_, larger than that hovel'

The cavern was so large, Draco mused that the ceiling was as high as the tallest tower of Hogwarts, and he could not see any end to it, no matter which direction he looked in. The source of light was a massive summoning circle, similar to ones he saw in his father's dark art books that he stole when he was thirteen. The floor they were standing on was in the very center in it.

"Draco, I need you to do two things, number one: shut up, number two: hold these." Harry said as he removed two glowing orbs from the pockets of his robe and shoved them into Draco's hands.

"When I tell you to crush them, crush them. Not a moment before, do you understand? If you screw this up you'll kill us both, and I don't want to die in some gods-forsaken cavern in Russia."

Draco snorted, "I think you'll find that I am more than capa-"

"What did I just say about shutting up?" Harry rounded on the slytherin

"I was just-" Draco protested.

"I don't care! One word at the wrong moment and you could get both of our souls ripped out of our bodies! Now shut it."

Harry sank to his knees and raised clasped hands over his head.

"Oh great lord of Ice, B'gnu-Thun, guardian of The Library of Souls, Great General of the Army of the Eternal Frost, your humble servant begs an audience with you. Appear before us mere mortals!"

Harry then whispered to Draco to smash the orbs, which he somehow, miraculously, did not screw up. When the orbs were shattered green mist poured out of the shattered remains. The mist swirled around the summoning circle obscuring the rest of the cavern. When it vanished the Cavern was filled with white.

Draco blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. The massive cavern was completely obscured by white, it was not fog or anything resembling it, no it was as if the entire cavern was filled with white paint. Then a closed eye appeared just in front of them.

It was a truly massive eye, easily bigger than either of them, Draco opened his mouth, only for the eye to reveal its blue iris and meet Draco's own. When Draco stared into the eye, Draco truly understood Cold.

Every single cell of his body began to freeze; he could feel the saliva in his mouth quickly freezing, and his lungs becoming immobile. He desperately shut his eyes in an attempt to stop his imminent demise, but to no avail. He could feel ice creeping over his eyelids, shutting them permanently.

'Is- is this it? Is this how I die, but I'm Draco Malfoy; I am supposed to take over the Malfoy family and make it even more powerful. I'm supposed to drive those pathetic mudbloods into the ground for daring to associate themselves with proper wizards. I can't die _here_.'

Despite Draco's mental claims to the contrary, he could feel himself slipping away until a voice the ice surrounding his ears.

"My Lord, as much I find the Malfoy annoying it would make things extremely difficult if he happened to die on my property.

"Oh really," the voice that answered Harry was nothing anyone would consider human, even if it did speak English. It was like a glacier slow, and so, _so_ cold. That alone wouldn't be threatening, but to Draco it reminded him of his father at his most dangerous: quiet, contemplative, but all it would take was one little mistake to send him into a rage.

"And why would the death of one little worm affect you so much? Especially a Malfoy, one of them hasn't formed a covenant in centuries. Damien Malfoy II formed a covenant with Ereshkigal. In exchange for dominion over his family Damien sacrificed three-hundred peasants to Ereshkigal. Ah, now I see your false master entrusted him to you."

"How _dare_ you!" The words escaped Draco's mouth before he realized what he was saying. He glanced down, swallowed, and glared at the eye.

"How dare you accuse my family of consorting with demons! The Malfoy family is a proud, noble family that would rather die than be associated with such vile, detestable creatures!"

Draco continued to glare at the monster before he realized just what he said. He suddenly became very interested in his shoes with his eyes flicking between them and the eye. The eye slowly closed and then slammed open, accompanied with the most horrifying sound Draco had ever heard. To Draco it was as if someone had brewed the Essence of Evil, the potion Dark Lord Malciferous used to turn entire villages into ravenous monsters, increased its potency a hundredfold, and turned it into harsh, reverberating, unceasing noise. Realization struck Draco like a thunderbolt, "he's laughing," Draco whispered to himself. Horror and revulsion overcame him and threatened to make him vomit, 'what kind of monster,' he wondered, 'sounds like this when they're happy?' The eye stared at the young Malfoy, making him feel like his very soul was being dissected.

"It is at times like these that I am reminded how little of the universe you humans perceive, to consider Ereshkigal a demon. Believe me, small human, there are far, far, worse things in the universe then Ereshkigal; one of them being me."

His attention then turned to Harry, "why have you begged an audience with me?"  
Harry bent his head. "My Lord, I have sought an audience with you so that I may have access to your near limitless knowledge. I seek two pieces of information: when I faced Lord Voldemort he was completely unaffected by the power of my gauntlets. When you gave them to me you said that no human being could withstand them. Yet Voldemort did so with ease, how?

"The answer is simple my apostle, a covenant. Your foe has made a pact with a god, a very powerful one."

"Who, My Lord?"

"There are very, very few gods that would be able to imbue their servant with such power. Even fewer that would be able to keep their covenant a secret from. Among those few one stands out: The Devourer of Corpses, Nidhoog."

_  
Voldemort sat at a table for two that would not have looked amiss in a five-star restaurant. It was covered by a silk table cloth, napkins, and a veritable army of cutlery. There was only one difference; on the plate across from Voldemort there was a severed human head. A man appeared in the chair in front of the head. He did not walk, or apparated, or tear a wall in the fabric of reality accompanied by the screams of the damned. No, he simply appeared one moment not there, the next sitting comfortably in the chair as if he had been there for a while. He was dressed in a black muggle suit. The arms of the jacket were covered with strange silver ruins that slowly moved. Where eyes should have been there were empty sockets. His mouth was fixed in a smirk showing off rows and rows of sharp pointed teeth and beyond them a deep red light shined. He was completely bald, with absolutely no hair anywhere on his body. Voldemort was not remotely surprised, not even blinking at his sudden dinner companion.

"Good evening," he almost hissed with a slight nod of his head, "Lord Nidhoog."

"To you as well, Lord Voldemort," was the answer in possibly the strangest voice ever heard by man. On the surface, it was a low, calm, bass; but underneath there were hundreds and hundreds of other voices and tones like termites squirming inside of a tree. His mouth did not move when he spoke, instead his voice came from every direction. "Tell me," the god went on, "how goes the war?"

Voldemort allowed a small smile to cross his face, "it goes well soon I shall gain what I need to cement my victory over that rabble that opposes me."

"Ah yes the armor Mordred wore when he crushed that fool Arthur under his heel. But that's not all is it? No you have something else, a true knife in the dark, an admirable weapon."

"Perhaps, but compared to the armor, my 'knife' is nothing but a passing amusement."

A dark chuckle answered Voldemort; the dark god stood up and began slowly pacing around the table. "Four thousand years ago a civilization by the name of the Assyrians discovered iron. Their non-magical counterparts immediately used the advantage they had over their bronze using neighbors and slaughtered them. It was a wonderful time, filled with tortuous, drawn-out deaths. Their magical counterparts participated in all of this, sometimes sacrificing hundreds in dark ceremonies in order to gain more power, but they discovered something. With enough power they could imbue iron with power, emotions even. They used this to maintain power long after their non- magical counterparts fell from glory. They created new and more wonderful weapons the greatest of which were the Nails. Seven innocent children were sacrificed on the seventh day of the seventh month with seven ceremonial knives. The blades were then melted down and reforged into seven nails. Those nails had the power to transform even the lowliest of muggles into an assassin capable of killing the most powerful of wizards."

"Well," Voldemort drawled, "by the way you've been monologuing about it I assume you have a set or did you merely decide to go on yet another pointless rant?"

"Of course I do, my brother in power," with a snap of his fingers seven nails themselves into the dinner table. Casually, Voldemort tugged one out of the table and ran his fingers over the ruin-carved nail. He then threw it, as fast as a bullet, at the God's head. It stopped one inch behind Nidhoog's head, without turning around he grabbed the impromptu projectile out of the air.

"It seems as if they have some form of projectile ability," he drawled.

"Yes, we shall have to be more careful in the future." Voldemort folded his hands, reptilian smirk covering his face. "So tell me, Lord Nidhoog, how goes the war?"

The god turned around, smirk still on his face, and sat down. "The war goes well," and so the two dark lords plotted, spinning out intricate plans to trap their foes in the coming days.

**First things first I apologize at the embarrassing gap in between updates. There is a reason for it besides me being a lazy bastard. Anything concerning the knife was not originally in this chapter or this story. It wa an idea I had at 3 in the morning that refused to go away, which forced me to re-do the plot completely. Updates should be coming out faster now that I don't have to change all of my plans.**

**P.S can anyone tell that I really, really like villains yet?**


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